might you be my love?
by bell.esque
Summary: For LJ community 24hour themes. SasuSaku. Chapter 4: The Last Stand. She doesn’t think she can do it again, but she wants to try and believe that fairytales are real and that she isn’t living like a broken doll in a shattered world.
1. 06:00 Fangirling

**Theme:** 06:00 [Tenacity and perseverance, especially with something you have been putting off.  
**Title:**Fangirling  
**Fandom:**Naruto  
**Character/Pairing:**Haruno Sakura x Uchiha Sasuke  
**Category:** Romantic  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warnings:** Minor language. No major spoilers, unless you haven't watched much of the series.  
**Disclaimer:**I do not own Naruto. It and all related things are the property of Kishimoto-san.  
**Summary:** I won't. I just _won't_, because I am Haruno Sakura, the _ex_-fangirl of Uchiha Sasuke. But how can anyone resist such a gorgeous, smart, se—dammit.

* * *

I am Haruno Sakura, the _ex_(don't forget that part)-fangirl of Uchiha Sasuke, my teammate and (hopefully) life-long friend. Of course, he is not as cheery and social as, let's say, Uzumaki Naruto, but he is still somethi—_someone_—to be proud of. 

These two boys, they are my best friends. And we all know that rule:

_You can't fall in love with your best friend_(s).

I didn't really _break_ that rule, because when I was in lo—_crushing_ on Sasuke (yes, just Sasuke, I have to remind myself that) he didn't think of me as a friend, much less a _best_ friend. I was just a pesky fangirl, which was completely true at the time. But after a long time (_yes_, five years is a _long_ time), he came back at seventeen, sometime in the winter beaten up.

And it was my pleasure to beat him up even more.

The blood-stained snow wasn't as appealing as white, so I ended up healing him.

Anyway, we are now _twenty-one_...well, I am, (he and Naruto are still twenty) and we have all developed a tight friendship bond. We wait for each other to finish eating at dinner, we go out to bars (mostly because Naruto forces us), and try to spend as much time buying me—I mean _us_—some shoes and clothing. We spar and everything, but it makes it hard because those two bastards are _above_me. Yea, ANBU material while I'm jounin? No, that's not _fair_. Quit like Kakashi-sensei and come join me. Being a jounin is so much more fun.

Even though we have been friends for so long, I still find it hard to growl at fangirls (and boys) when they stare at Sasuke's ass and when they jump him in the middle of the street. I find it hard that I have to beat them up afterwards, because I shouldn't feel protective. I don't do it for Naruto or anyone else. (Maybe because_he_ doesn't have fangirls?)

It's not like Sasuke is my _boyfriend_.

But it fills my heart with jo—_confusion_—when people get this fact mixed up and really _do_ think we're dating. I'm around him enough, I beat anyone up who tries to hit on him, and I burn all the flowers that are handed to him. But it does _not_ help when I'm trying to get over him (though I already am, I assure you) when he just _smirks_ at me and tell me that I'm jealous because I'm _not_. I don't care, it's just he used to think it was annoying.

(Oh, now he just _loves_ the attention, though he never really flirts back, just nods and smirks and listens.)

He's pretty amazing, though it's annoying because every morning when Naruto and him get up (you see, we live together in the same apartment), it's _way_ earlier and me and are as loud as hell. They sleep really early, apparently, but me? Past midnight, definitely, and then they come crashing down the hallway and shouting _already_ when they're near my room. They have no consideration whatsoever.

So I wasn't pleased to find three quick, echoing knocks against my door this morning. Though I was a little bit thankful that there was no shouting or something stupid of that sort like, "You took _my_ gear, dobe." "No, it's _mine_."

I cracked my eyes open, and it was probably around six by the way it looked outside. It wasn't exactly dark, because it was almost springtime, but it wasn't very bright either. The sky was a light blue, though a little darker than during the afternoon. I checked the clock to find my estimation was right—it was a little bit past six AM.

I threw off my covers but decided to stay in before pulling them back over me.

"Come in."

"Are you dressed?" came the teasing voice.

Crap. It's _not_ Naruto. But knowing him, he probably wouldn't have knocked anyway.

"Yes, Sasuke."

"Is Naruto with you?"

Oh god, is he _implying_ something?

"No, Sasuke, just get in."

"Open the door, then."

The reason I didn't get out was so you could open the door on your _own_, Sasuke. We all know you're tall enough to reach the handle!

"It's not _locked_, god dammit."

"No, but you always want me to respect your privacy."

What? Now he respects it? But there's nothing to actually _hide_ this time!

"Like you really give a shit."

"Okay, I'm coming in then."

Why does he take so much of his own time, and mine, to get through all of this?

You see, every time Naruto or Sasuke want something or have something for me, they play this little game called "Respect (or Piss Off) Sakura-chan" where they knock on the door and drag out this long conversation for me. About absolutely _nothing_, which probably is the part that annoys me the most. But we never do it to Sasuke, because when we do, he gets extremely mad and will Chidori us until we beg for mercy. (Well, for Naruto.) I think once when I was on a mission and they were resting up after one, Sasuke was sleeping and Naruto began to talk to him behind the door.

He ended up coming out of his room and throwing Naruto down the hallway before going back to sleep.

I don't know if it's true, but it seemed likely.

Naruto never gets the treatment, because if he's actually tired and not excited, he _won't wake up_.

And then, Sasuke, in all his sexy, sparkly glory (much to my pleasure) entered my room in his ANBU gear.

(Epic fail, Sakura. You weren't supposed to let that thought slip...But it was only once this month, so we'll let that go. IdonotlikeSasukeIdonotlikeSasukeIdonot—)

I finally sit up, because the next thing that runs through my head is, "_He has a mission_?"

"You have a mission?"

He shakes his head, chuckling a little bit. It's slightly scary, but it's soothing at the same time, and I had the urge to go back to sleep.

"No, just a mission report."

"You're going to Tsunade-shishou, _now_?"

She didn't ever wake up early, so there was no point in trying at knocking on the door and delivering an elaborate synopsis. She wouldn't be listening, if you were even lucky enough to get the chance to go in. Most of the time, she'd just kick you out, rather literally, and tell you do never come back.

Once she even ended up _banishing_ somebody from Konoha because they did it so many times.

(Of course, the council told her to let the poor man back in, because he was now working as a farmer nearby, and it was just a _pity_to loose another shinobi.)

"No, at nine," he replied evenly, leaning against the door frame as his dark bangs brushed over his forehead lightly. His dark eyes glinted a little bit, and at that moment, I felt like I was going to melt like when I was younger.

(But you _can't_, Sakura! You'll _fail_ even more!)

"So, then, why are you here?"

"Oh, I just happened to be awake and all."

In a flash, I felt a weight on my bed and he was sitting there, next to me, and it was just instinct to hide my blush

(Oh, you've really failed _now_)

under the blanket and pull it up right under my pair of bright, too green eyes.

"Some people still have to sleep."

He paused a little bit before fingering the string on his mask, his lips now in a thin line, no longer curved upwards. He was looking at my dresser.

Or more like a picture.

It was of us two, when we were nineteen. We were on the beach or something, and I remember that time. There was sand and water and everything.

But I think I liked it, I must admit, because it was just _us_.

The photo was taken quite unprofessionally by me, which was quite hard since I had to be in the picture, too. But it turned out alright, I think.

"It's a pity Naruto got sick that day."

"Hn."

"But I liked it the way it was, with just us two."

"Hm?"

_Fuck_.

That was not supposed to come out. He was already smirking a little bit, and his head whipped around to stare at me, waitingexpecting_wanting_ some sort of elaboration.

"W-well, you see, I mean...yea."

"No, I don't see," he said, his smirk spreading wider and wider. "Explain more, will you? We have a few hours."

I was going to break down and fangirl again.

Get your emotions out in one action, Sakura! Then you won't have to do this again, and you can put fangirling behind you!

So, I kissed him.

Which wasn't _that_ good of an idea, but considering that Sasuke(-kun) was actually kissing back...it was a good experience.

In about another minute, he already pinned me down onto the bed and was on top of me.

(Oh, dear, this no-fangirling thing _won't_ work out if things continue this way.)

"Mmph, Sa...Sasuke, we should stop."

(Yes,_you_ are in control!)

And then he smirked again.

(Maybe not...This...this is going to take a while. Maybe I should just stop trying to not fangirl. That would be for the better.)

"Like I said, we have a few hours."

* * *

Thoughts? 


	2. 23:00 Dearest

**Theme:** 23:00 [Coping with drastic change in a positive manner.  
**Title:**Dearest  
**Fandom: **Naruto  
**Character/Pairing: **Haruno Sakura x Uchiha Sasuke  
**Category:** Romantic  
**Rating:** PG  
**Warnings:** slightly AU  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto. The original series and all related things are the property of Kishimoto-san. I also do not own the poem at the end, though I do not know who the author is.  
**Summary:** I wrote your name in my heart, and forever it will stay.

* * *

"Sakura-chan!" Naruto screams, his tone lined with a type of fakeness—the type that makes you think everything is alright, but it really isn't. He puts a grin on his face, it spreads wide—but it's not real.

There are several things in this world I believe—I believe in life, I believe in courage, I believe in friendship, but I no longer believe in _love_—at least, not the fairytale kind of love. Because there are no happily-ever-afters in this world.

It's not something that you can give a name, even, because it'll never be accurate. There are no adjectives to describe that emotion that washes over you when you see the one that you "love". There are no words for those feelings—not even in gibberish.

I didn't know if it was happening—was it? I mean, it was confusing enough. He was never direct, ever, with me, or with anyone else for the matter. But I didn't mind because I liked the way he was quiet and he expressed everything through the silence. I liked how he_understood_ that there were never going to be words that could keep us together; because _I love you_ would never be enough for anyone.

We all believe that it will be—in our minds we think, "_Yes, I'm happy that they love me."_ But really, what is love? How do we know if they love if all they say is _I love you_. Those three words, thought to be so powerful, are actually—meaningless. They might mean the world when uttered, but that doesn't mean it makes you feel _good _later on.

You would know this information by just asking several women and men, "How many people have you dated that have said something along the lines of, 'I love you,'?" I'm sure they'd say at least a few, but right now, you don't necessarily see them with those people that told them _I love you_, because love just might have its limits.

Love is only something that is shaped by our beliefs, what we think defines _love_. But we do not know love outside of dates and caring and children and flowers and hearts and many other things.

I loved, I know I did. I know there was something inside of me that screamed the truth.

I loved him. I loved the way he'd brush his fingers against my hands, not squeeze them, because that wasn't him. I loved how he'd lean down and push back my bangs, tucking them behind my ear. I loved how he'd smile a little bit for me, just for me, just so I would smile back. I loved how he would whisper sweet things into my ears if I ever cried, and that he'd hold onto me so tightly like he would never let go.

Of course, there was an end. Perhaps unexpected, surprising, _disturbing_, but the truth is, there is an end to everything. And love was not an exception.

When Naruto runs up to me, I purse my lips, broaden my shoulders, hold my breath, and praypray_pray_.

It doesn't help, since he's still grinning, smiling that sickly sweet smile.

And no, thank you, I do not want to ask that question. That question I already know the bloody answer to. That question that doesn't feel like giving me a satisfying answer if I ask it.

But I do.

"...Where's Sasuke-kun?"

It's only a whisper, softer than I thought it would come out. My throat is dry, my voice is hoarse, so I clear my throat, making a silence-piercing noise.

Most of my actions are unintentional, but natural. The lump in my throat starts to form once again, because I feel like I know the answer. And I just pray that I'm wrong.

But I know I'm right, because Naruto's frown starts to form, but part of him struggles to keep up that smile, that fake-smile that gets me confused, the one that is unreadable.

I don't like not knowing things.

(But why do I feel like that I don't want to know this time?)

Finally, Naruto breaks. He breaks in the way that I can't stop, the way that makes me feel so helpless because this is _Naruto_, the one who screams, "Dattebayo!" all the time. The one that believes he can change everything singlehandedly when it's just impossible _breaks_.

My best friend, my strongest friend just falls apart.

"No, no, no, no, _no_..." I whisper, under my breath, because that's exactly what I'm thinking.

Because Sasuke can't leave _now_.

"Sakura-chan," he mumbles, trying not to sob, his clear, blue, watery eyes giving me a pitiful look. He's crying, his tears are streaming down so much and—

"_Sakura, you know I might leave and never come back_."—

"He said he told you."

I hear Naruto gulp, like he's trying to swallow the rest of his tears that are about to come out. I freeze, because that's half true.

I don't remember that memory until now.

We were only seven. I—I didn't know. I didn't know that _that's_ what he meant.

Naruto collapses and I have nothing to say, because there is nothing I can say. I did something wrong, presumably.

But it all felt like a dream. It didn't feel like eleven at night on a cold windy night.

So then I cry. I cry because that we were almost there, we almost brushed that feeling of love and felt what it was like to be a couple.

But almost is never there. In our story, there were only in-betweens.

So I try to put away my tears and be brave for once. I take Naruto in my arms, bury my head into his shoulder, and hiccup once.

Just once, before I pull myself back together. I bite the insides of my cheeks, stop my sniffling, and clear my throat.

"He'll come back," I finally say. "He will, eventually. If he doesn't," I pull back and try to smile, "we'll get him back."

And Naruto doesn't say anything, not a yes, not a no, not a maybe. His face is blank, and he just stares, tears on his sticky eyelashes and cheeks.

But the silence is enough for me, so I walk away.

And all I can do is hope that's where Sasuke will be.

_I wrote your name in the sand, but it was washed away.  
I wrote your name on my hand, but I washed it the next day.  
I wrote your name in the sky, but the wind blew it away.  
I wrote you name in my heart, and forever it will stay._

So I'll wait.

* * *

Thoughts? I rather disliked this one--I thought it was too rushed. 


	3. 21:00 Drunken Nights

**Theme:** 21:00; Comprehension of universal truth.  
**Title: **Drunken Nights  
**Fandom: **Naruto  
**Character/Pairing: **Haruno Sakura x Uchiha Sasuke  
**Category:** Romantic  
**Rating:** PG  
**Warnings:** AU  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto. The original series and all related things are the property of Kishimoto-san.  
**Summary:** Sakura asks for the truth, but sometimes, he doesn't think he can say it to her even if she won't remember the next morning.  
**Notes**: It isn't really that good, and it feels sort of rushed. I apologize for the poor quality. D:

* * *

"Sasuke-kun, do you love me?"

(Sakura asks this with pouty, red lips, watery, golden-green eyes, and a whiny, high-pitched voice.

Thus, Sasuke becomes confused. And annoyed. But more confused than anything because she hadn't asked this question for _years_.)

He puts his lips together into a firm, straight line, before opening them to say something.

"I—"

(The pink hair is then pulled on by its owner, who gave a gruff sigh of frustration before grabbing a pencil and violently stabbing the desk below her.)

"Symptom number one!" the ferocious college student cries, flinging the pencil to the other side of the room dramatically as the few months younger best friend of hers watched with questioning eyes. She turns sharply to meet his gaze, her tone accusing. "Hesitation! A sign of disloyalty! Oh, Sasuke-kun _how could you do_—"

(Her mouth is promptly covered up with a pale hand.

Which the girl licks to get off.)

"_Sakura_," Sasuke says in a disappointing tone, taking a tissue and wiping his hand with it, making sure to keep his gaze locked with hers to tell her that _yes, he was completely serious about this_.

"Yea?"

"That was disgusting."

(Bright, vivacious green eyes roll as she giggles playfully.)

"What? Are you afraid of _germs_? Or _cooties_?"

"..."

(And then she jumps up again, grabbing yet another pencil, though this time it is from his hand and begins to yell.)

"Symptom number two: Denial! This shows that there is no trust between you two!" Sakura screams, pulling out a small handbook before dropping it to the ground. Curious, Sasuke reaches out, but right before he manages to pick it up, she clings to his arm and rests her head on his shoulder. "Sasuke-kun, are we really losing our connection?"

(She sniffles in a fake way, and he tries his best to not push her off roughly right there and then and tell her to shut the _fuck _up.)

"Sakura, we aren't dating," he says firmly, as he moves his shoulder slightly so she would get off of him. "Are you _drunk_?"

"PAH," she exclaims, getting up. For a moment, she sways, almost falling and losing her balance. However, she regains it the next second, but not before burping. "I'm not _drunk_."

"What's the capital of Japan?"

"Fukuoka!" she says giddily, hiccupping before collapsing on his bed. "I'll _definitely _pass tomorrow's geography test, 'kaa-san!"

(Sasuke almost slams, "dlkjf;alkjklfd," on his laptop while he is writing his term paper, which just happens to count for _sixty percent of his grade_ in Japanese history this term.

—Bad idea.)

"No, Sakura," Sasuke hisses from his desk, tapping a new pencil loudly against his laptop, "The capital is _Tokyo_."

"LIAR!" she screams, hiding her head under his pillow. Moments later, he can hear her sitting up to grab the pillow and throw it at him.

(Because he already predicted this, Sasuke manages to move his head just in time, watching the feathery , soft fluff slide down the wall.)

"I would prefer it if you didn't vandalize my room," Sasuke says, turning around again. Finally, he pushes his chair back and walks over to his bed, sitting across from the drunk girl.

After a long pause, the pink-haired girl tries to clear her throat. "I'm drunk...?" Sakura asks innocently, tilting her head to the side. Sasuke blinks once before looking at her eyes.

—_Dark green._

(Really, he just needs this to confirm. He already _knows_ that she's drunk.)

"Yea, Sakura," he replies evenly, trying not to give away worry.

(Because he doesn't want her to get _another_ hangover because her "shishou" asks her to go out and drink with her,

but being worried wouldn't be...well—_Sasuke_.)

"Maybe you should sleep," he suggests softly, getting off the bed for good measures. She isn't exactly as predictable in this state. "You're head's going to hurt a lot tomorrow if you don't."

"'Kay!" Sakura exclaims obediently, much to Sasuke's surprise. Her head still seems to be somewhat clear about the next day. "I have a biology test in the morning." She doesn't really even seem drunk anymore. "Sasuke-kun, do you have the biology textbook so I can put it under my pillow and get all the knowledge?"

Well, maybe not.

(But he agrees anyway, because even if he won't admit it, he'll do _anything_ for her.)

"Thank you, Sasuke-kun," she says loudly, closing her eyes tightly. In a few moments, she murmurs the phrase again, as he watches her fall asleep. He grabs an extra blanket and threw it over her, making sure she won't catch a cold, before cleaning the room up and going back to his desk and his lamp and his work.

(He finds it a little lonely once she sleeps, and he sort of wishes that she was awake to annoy him again

Key words are "sort of".)

He can't focus on his work, and he knows it is because she was asleep and not talking. He glances at the clock--it was only nine, but he felt tired already.

He starts to think about her question. Really, _really_ think.

_Sasuke-kun, do you love me?_

Really, does he love her? Does he really want to see her everyday and hear her smile and talk to her and hug her and kiss her and everything that lovers are supposed to do?

(He likes to deny, because he is afraid of himself. He is afraid _for_ her and everyone else.

He wants to stop hurting people, but he still wants to protect her, so the best way is to watch closely, but not too closely.

—The position of 'The Best Friend'.)

He feels like shrinking, a little bit. He feels like he wants to hide in a hole and just eat, sleep, and think for a few days. Because he is scared that he was falling in love and he is scared that he might hurt her. He doesn't want to fall in love and be in love and be The Boyfriend and then end up hurting her even more.

He doesn't want that, but that is what happened. He knows he is in love, he knows that she is in love, and he knows that they could be a couple.

He picks up her notebook that she dropped before and finds something like a law book. He finds one that is circled and drawn on and boxed several times.

_Don't fall in love with your best friend_.

He hurts, a little bit, deep down inside, because he knows that because of this rule, he will never be Sakura's Prince Chariming.

(He walks over to the bed and looks at her closed, green eyes. He looks at her bright pink cheeks, and wonders if her head will hurt too much tomorrow morning. He touches her soft tresses and brushes them away from her face. He looks at her red-pink lips and wishes secretly that he could kiss them.

He settles for her supposedly large forehead and flicks the lights off.)

* * *

The next morning, when Sakura wakes up, her head is pounding and her eyes are stinging and her throat feels like it's on fire. Next to the lamp on the desk beside her, she sees a small pill and a glass of water, set on the table in that Sasuke-like manner.

She takes her pill, hoping her headache will feel better later on.

She catches flickers of her conversation with Sasuke suddenly.

_Do you love me, Sasuke-kun_?

She repeats the question, several times, staring around the room to find it neat and clean, just how Sasuke likes to keep it.

Then she sees a note on the table, in Sasuke's neat scrawl.

_Don't fall in love with your best friend._

_So we won't call it Love, just something that's almost Love but more than Friendship._


	4. 03:00 The Last Stand

**Theme:** 03:00 Determination, especially in matters that seem to hold you back.  
**Title: **The Last Stand  
**Fandom: **Naruto  
**Character/Pairing: **Haruno Sakura x Uchiha Sasuke  
**Category:** Romantic  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warnings:** AU, violence, language  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto. The original series and all related things are the property of Kishimoto-san. I don't even really own the _title_.  
**Summary:** She doesn't think she can do it again, but she wants to try and believe that fairytales are real and that she isn't living like a broken doll in a shattered world.

* * *

Things weren't the same anymore, and Sakura remembered that when she looked at her rough hands. She remembered when they used to be soft and pale. She remembered when she used to grasp somebody else's hand

(_Who was that again? Mommy? Daddy?..._)

tightly and wrap her fingers around their pinkies.

(_I can't remember anymore_)

The streets were clean then. Cleaner than what she was living in right now. She could smell the metallic stench of blood and the burning acid in the sewer systems. There was gurgling and people begging to more beggars. Nobody was The Rich, nobody was The Poor. The buildings were falling apart, their bricks covered with graffiti drawn from the blood of the innocent.

She didn't want to live here, all alone and cold with nothing to her name except her army uniform, her gun, and her broken, dirty boots.

(_These can't take me away, no, they can't. I wishwish_wish_ they could_.)

Her boots made loud thumping noises against the pavement. She tried to concentrate on that, but there were always desperate, high-pitched cries in the alleyways or some psycho yelling for his crack.

(_These are my glass slippers, these are the remnants of Prince Charming and those fairytales that used to be dreams are now only miracles that will never happen_)

There was no thing as being safe. If you walked up to a person just to ask for directions, chances are that they would pull out a gun and blow your brain out before you even got to actually speak. This wasn't safe. This wasn't the place she grew up in.

She was born here, geographically. She was raised here and fed here and educated here. She made friends here—

(_And tried to love here. Here—do you think that is possible?)_

—she played here.

She remembered when the fields of grass were green and wet with dewdrops in the morning. She looked at them and wondered how the grass became so brown and black and dead.

(_It's the influence of us humans. _

_I question if our savage ways of war and bitterness are even human anymore._)

The streets are lined with prostitutes, waiting patiently for the next night of torment. All for the useless currency, the coins, the paper, the pieces of nothing to fall into their hands so they can walk in their torn up dresses and their torn up shoes and their torn up lives to just go and buy groceries—

(_Did you know that eighty-seven percent of the citizens in Konoha die from being shot while walking down the street?_

_Over forty-five percent of those citizens are children under the age of 15._)

—that weren't actually there. The only positive thoughts were dreams that could never be imagined, because all the people were war-stained and their bitter-hard minds have abolished any sort of dreams.

(_This is our paradise, sanctuary, and haven_.)

Every morning, the blood red sun would rise, and the people would weep for the loss of innocence that would follow the next few seconds. The kiloliters of blood that would be spilled each and every day, because their country was in a war, and their people's spirits were being crushed to bits of pieces smaller than dust. The people were only shells of their former selves. The once prosperous city of Konoha was reduced to nothing more than a dump where over a million carcasses were buried. Women, men, children, elderly, _unborn babies_.

(_Don't you ever wonder what it would be like to sleep with a shotgun in your hands and grenades in your pockets every night? Don't you ever wonder what it would be like to take hours to fall asleep, because as you breathe your shaky breaths into the frosty air and wish that this is all a nightmare, you can here screams and bombs and killing going on? Don't you ever wonder how terrifying it is to hear your heartbeat pounding rapidly in your ears when people rush past, not knowing if their your enemy or your friend?_

_Don't you ever wonder what it would be like to kill somebody that could be your best friend because they attempted to approach you?_)

The citizens were helpless—nothing could be done about the war. The only words of advice were, _Keep a gun and shoot_.

If somebody managed to get out of this hellhole, nobody would ask them to come back to pick them up, because over years of war, people learned not to trust. The thought of hope and escape were out of reach, and any attempt made to run away was nearly one hundred percent stopped. The person would be killed if they were lucky—if not, they'd stay in prison and have somebody torture them in the cruelest ways until they died of disease or old age—

—Oh, they were careful, very careful not to kill you then. Death was never a worry—it was more of a blessing.

(_People nowadays don't think about dying the way they used to. It releases you from the torture, and too many have been driven to the edge. They've killed themselves in some of the most unimaginable ways. _

_But people still want to live, and sometimes I ask myself why __**I**_ _want to live. I blame it on our instinct, our greed for survival from our animal ancestors. _

_Maybe it's not truthful, but it's better to know that lie than a truth that might crush you and hinder you._)

Sakura kicked through the rubble, a little bit, to find a mascara-smudged face looking up, staring blankly. She had about thirteen bullets shot through her from the back, Sakura counted, and her face was pained and sad and angry.

Beneath the dead body was an almost-crushed baby, only a few months old, sleeping quietly all red-faced, taking soft, calm breaths. And Sakura almost shed tears, _almost_, for the dead mother and the sleeping baby because _they were both so young_.

She brushed her hair from her face, and stroked the baby's cheek lightly, leaving it sleeping wrapped in a pink blanket. Sakura knew that leaving the baby there to die was better than to take it and raise it—there was not enough food or money or _anything._ The child would fight war, watch people die, learn to shoot properly once it could walk.

A screen flashed a vivid white in the dead girl's body—a cellphone.

The girl was recently killed, Sakura told herself, since the phone was still working. Her eyes flashed back and forth, before she picked up the phone and saw a typed text message—the last farewell of the girl.

_My lovely Aiko, if you manage to survive, please remember that I'll always love you._

Her eyes watered, and she wished that she could be stronger and let this child go. She didn't want to give in and take the child to be raised in a hell to become a weak prostitute selling her body off on the street.

So she turned away, harshly, her face breaking into tears, her inner demons ripping her heart apart. Despite the many people killed, she couldn't even save this one innocent life.

Sakura ran. She didn't care about the acid rain pouring onto her skin, burning and hissing upon contact. She didn't care that it was completely dark and past curfew. She didn't care if she was going to catch a fever or get shot by a guard.

She just needed to get away.

Her hair flopped messily in sticky strands, falling into her eyes as she clawed her way up the fire escape to her home. She stood at her window and looked at the bright crimson of the building's bricks before rushing in, gasping, pleading that nobody was in there, waiting to kill or pull her into their stupid, senseless war.

(_I used to live here with somebody, and I used to be a person. I used to know these people called friends. I used to live a normal life._

_It's not possible anymore—I need to escape._)

Her mind was decided, but she dug her nails into her damp palms, drawing blood. Escape was too hard—she wouldn't make it. There was no hope.

_At least make an attempt_, something snarled in her head. She could imagine something inside her lashing out, screaming, loathing her own fear. _At least, do that for everyone_.

(_I'm afraid because my friends weren't. I'm afraid because they're gone. I'm afraid because I was never as incredible, and if they didn't make it, I don't think I will._)

So she thought again, and changed her mind, and thought some more. She glanced at the clock quickly. It was only three, and there was still two more hours before sunrise. Perhaps she could leave right before dawn.

The stench of rotted wood was in the air as she looked through her dusty cabinets to gather what she could carry. She dried herself as best she could, and as the minutes ticked away, she felt as if she was getting closer to death.

She tried desperately to grab onto abandoned memories, to find that her mind had finally failed her. Nothing was familiar anymore. Sakura stroked the glass lightly, and tried to imagine that everyone was here and alive again.

(_My fears eat me up. I can't do this. But I want to, so I'll try._

_It's just so hard to accept that almost all that attempted never made it through, because some of those people were the strongest people I ever knew. I wonder how _I_ can do it if them couldn't._)

They weren't here, but even when she caught a vision of them for a slight second, she smiled brokenly. Her lips were crooked and half-scowling, but she could at least see a little bit of brightness through the glass in her eyes.

When the first rays of sunlight began to show through the clouds, Sakura tied her hair up and picked up her bag hesitantly, slinging it over her slumped shoulders.

Leaving was going to be hard, and it wasn't just the obstacles and guards she had to go through. She didn't really care if she was going to be blasted into pieces by shotguns anymore.

(_Because when I look at the way this place used to be and what it is now, it's just too different. Sometimes my dreams tell me that I'm safe again, in peace. But then I wake up to the sound of dropping bombs and screaming, and I know that it's not true anymore. I want this to go back to before, because then I can stay here. I don't have to be attached, but still want to leave. I'll just be here._)

It was just that this was the place that she _grew up_. The place where she wrote nonsense words and drew frivolous dreams on paper. The place where she laughed with no worries and cried from a paper-cut. The place that _this_ place once was.

She sighed, her breath misty and humid against her too-pale cheeks, before taking her first steps forward. First are the baby-steps, the ones that are all too slow to evade the bullets and sidestep to avoid that dagger. Sakura speeds up, hair in frenzy in front of her eyes, shut tight, trying not to get the strands into her eyes and the acid rain falling from the sky.

A guard called, shouting, screaming. She was trying to escape, she needed to be shot before she left.

Right when she heard all the guns clicking and being loaded, she pulled out her handgun, and prayed that perhaps Sasuke would help her a little bit here.

(_I was never that good at shooting, so he used to do it for me_.)

She focused as much energy as she could into her eyes, brilliant red eyes that held the life of a man that had died for freedom.

(_It's all I have_.)

She didn't mind, too much, if she went down in this last fight.


End file.
